An Interesting Discovery
by dragonhold
Summary: DI Lestrade is looking for Sherlock Holmes and John Watson - but finds a bit more than he expected. Unashamed fluff prompted by a conversation on Twitter!


DI Lestrade ran his left hand through his greying hair and sighed loudly. The move and sound were not lost on the other police officer currently sat in the office, DC Sally Donovan.

"What's the matter, Sir?" she asked, half afraid that she already knew the answer.

"I still haven't been able to reach Sherlock or Dr Watson," Lestrade answered. "I've texted both of them, rung both of them and emailed both of them and still nothing! It's infuriating and yet strangely worrying too!" His rue smile spoke volumes as to the conflicting emotions that were running through his mind.

Donovan started to speak, knowing that she would never be permitted to fully finish her comment "To be perfectly honest, Sir, we don't really need them poking around…"

Lestrade's eyes flashed angrily and he glared at his colleague. "You really don't get it, do you Donovan? We do need Sherlock and the insights that he brings to a case – he spots things in seconds that Anderson doesn't notice for weeks. It's not that we can't find the information we need – it's that we often need answers quicker than we can get them through normal channels." He sighed, he was, quite frankly, sick of having this conversation with Sally Donovan and a small part of him longed to have her walking the beat in uniform again – anything to get her, and her toxic views on Sherlock Holmes, away from him for a while. He smiled wryly as he stood up and went to collect his coat from the back of the chair.

"I'm going out. Try not to piss anyone else off while I'm gone!" and with that comment he breezed out the door and left her sitting there with her mouth open.

This case was puzzling, at least to the Police, and Lestrade could really do with Sherlock's unique insights into how the murder was committed – even if that meant putting up with the mercurial detectives jibes about his intelligence. It was no good, he was going to have to find Sherlock and John the old fashioned way. He climbed into his car and started the engine, deciding that his first point of call would be 221B Baker Street. Lestrade had no idea why they weren't responding to his requests for help and was almost sure that Sherlock and John wouldn't be at home but he might get the option to ask Mrs Hudson where the two men had gone. Again, a wry smile crossed his lips as he thought of Mrs Hudson who, so often, told Sherlock and John that she wasn't their housekeeper and then willingly made them cakes, sandwiches and more than the odd cup of tea.

The traffic through London was torturously slow and Lestrade was toying with the idea of putting the blue lights on. In the end though he decided that the longer it took to find the two men he was seeking, the longer he could stay away from the office and from Sally Donovan and her partner in crime, Anderson the pathologist.

Forty minutes had passed when he pulled up outside 221B Baker Street. Getting out of the car, he looked up at the windows not really expecting to see anything. Sherlock frequently ignored his texts, calls and emails; that was just the nature of the man. John Watson on the other hand always answered him within a few hours at the very outside.

Lestrade knocked on the door and it wasn't long before Mrs Hudson appeared, looking as cheerful and welcoming as ever. "Hello, love," she said, welcoming him into the hallway. "What can I do for you today then?"

"I've been trying to reach Sherlock and John since yesterday evening and neither of them is answering me." Lestrade smiled at her, "I appreciate that is not unusual for Sherlock but John is usually much more polite!" He grinned knowing that Mrs Hudson had lots of experience in how exasperating and rude Sherlock could appear to those who didn't know him well.

"To be honest, Greg," Lestrade smiled at the use of his first name, Mrs Hudson continued, "I haven't seen or heard either of them for a couple of days. I was beginning to think they must have gone away somewhere and forgotten to tell me about it."

"Would you mind if I went upstairs and checked for myself?" Lestrade asked. "I really could do with their help on a case."

"Of course, love, I'll just go and get you the spare key. They might have left a note up there for me. I haven't been up as my hip is playing me up a bit." She turned and went into her own front door and returned a few seconds later with the key to the upstairs flat. "You don't mind if I don't come up with you, do you?" She asked.

"That's fine, Mrs Hudson," Lestrade replied. "I'll bring the key back down to you in a few minutes."

With that he turned and climbed the stairs that would take him into the flat that John and Sherlock shared. He listened for a few seconds at the door and, hearing nothing, put the key in the lock and turned it, quietly opening the door. Nothing seemed out of place, although anywhere that Sherlock lived that was a relative term, the detective was furiously messy and the evidence of his presence was all over the flat. There was a jack knife thrust into the mantelpiece whose sole purpose was to hold unopened correspondence until Sherlock decided to open it. There were two mugs on the table; neither of them had mould growing in them so they could only have been there for a couple of days at the most. Surveying the flat, it would appear that the two elusive men had, indeed, been present in the very near past.

Lestrade was just thinking that things were getting more and more curious when he heard a small noise coming from the downstairs bedroom. He crept carefully and silently over to the door and opened it as quietly as possible not knowing exactly what to expect. Slipping quietly into the bedroom he stuck his head around the bedroom door and stopped dead unable to believe his eyes.

There were two naked men lying on top of the bed, fast asleep. They were spooned together in a manner that spoke volumes for its intimacy. Sherlock was on the left side of the bed, lying with his naked bottom facing Lestrade. His black hair was messy and his lower limbs were untidily spread over his half of the bed. His right arm was under the head and neck of a certain Dr John Watson, who was snuggled back into his flatmate. Sherlock's left arm was flung over the top of John in an almost protective manner. John's sandy, greying hair could be seen resting comfortably in Sherlock's arms. The bedsheets were all over the place and Lestrade was sure he could see the remains of a tube of KY Jelly.

Lestrade took all this in, and more, in the blink of an eye. Blushing furiously, he retreated silently and closed the bedroom door without a sound. He turned round and left the flat, grinning like a lunatic, blushing furiously and silently shaking his head in amazement. He closed the front door and went down the stairs to Mrs Hudson's front door to return the key.

"Well," she asked, "Are they in? Are they OK?"

Lestrade's blush deepened, "Oh yes, they are most definitely at home," he said. "They must have been pulling some sort of all-nighter as they are both fast asleep. I guess this is one case that Scotland Yard will have to solve all by itself."

With that, and leaving a slightly bemused Mrs Hudson behind him, Lestrade made his way to his car and got in. It was only once he was safely within the confines of his car that he allowed himself the luxury of laughing out loud. In all the time he had known Sherlock, he had never known the man show any interest in the opposite sex, or the same sex, for that matter. However, it appeared that a slightly battered veteran of the Afghanistan War had succeeded where no-one else had dared to tread. Composing himself slightly, but still grinning like a lunatic, he turned the key and turned the car back towards Scotland Yard. They would indeed have to solve this case by themselves.


End file.
